


Angels Fall

by Cross77



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-13
Updated: 2015-09-17
Packaged: 2018-04-20 12:36:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4787492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cross77/pseuds/Cross77
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Grant Ward disappears from Stark Tower in the middle of the night, he makes his way to Starling City. Several surprises are in-store for him as his childhood friend, Oliver Queen, returns after being pronounced deceased. Meanwhile, the team conducts a search for their missing teammate. Season One AU of both Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. and Arrow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Say Goodbye

**Author's Note:**

> So, I've been writing this story for a while on a different website, but I decided to post it on here as well. This is likely a very different Grant Ward than you are used to seeing, but Clint was the one who pulled him out of Juvie in this story. Obviously he's going to be different from on the show.

Grant sighed dejectedly as he laid on his bed, threading his fingers through his hair. He should be happy. Everyone else was. The team was at Avengers Tower for a few weeks to recover after dealing with the events of the Berserker Staff.

It was great to see his supervising officer, Clint Barton, again. They hadn't seen each other for almost half a year. Grant had been sent on mission after mission while Clint was busy dealing with Avenger' stuff. He was proud of his old friend, but he missed him like crazy. The older man's schedule was now so busy that he often didn't even call for weeks at a time.

Ward was glad to see that their friend – and Clint's partner – Natasha Romanoff was taking good care of the brunette archer. The first few days after they had arrived, the redheaded assassin had regaled him with tales involving the Avengers in action, as well as Clint's usual stubborn recklessness. Afterwards, Natasha would drift away to talk to May, as the two were old friends. Clint still hung out with his protégé from time to time, but he had returned to primarily relaxing with Tony Stark.

Bruce Banner was a nice guy, calm and collected. FitzSimmons had hit it off with the man almost instantly, to nobody's great surprise, and they were usually always in the lab. In fact, he'd only really see them at nighttime, when they'd be watching a movie or eating a late dinner, before the trio would rush off back to the lab with whatever it was they were working on.

Coulson had stuck to Rogers like glue, following his childhood idol everywhere he went. Rogers hadn't minded, glad that the man he respected was not, in fact, dead by Loki's hands. All in all, the Avengers took the news rather well. Banner had been the first to react, giving Phil a small smile and walking to the labs to gather his thoughts. Rogers had shook the man's hand while Stark cursed the older agent out. Clint had threatened to use him as target practice if the level eight field agent ever pulled that stunt again. Natasha actually hit the man, which Ward thought was quite entertaining, before pulling him into a hug. Thor was off world, which was probably a good thing, because he might have accidentally crushed Phil's spine in a bear hug.

He had actually been looking forward to spending some time with his Rookie at the tower. In a move that surprised him, she started following Rogers around just as much as Coulson. Which meant, for the past week and a half, he had pretty much been all by himself.  _Yay!_

Oh no, that wasn't even the worst part. The only thing Skye would talk about during training, which was the only time anyone on his team seemed to interact with him nowadays, was the blonde super-soldier.  _His biceps this, his firm chest that. Hey, don't forget his super sexy perfect face or his amazing blue eyes._  He huffed to himself, pissed and admittedly jealous at her obvious attraction to the captain. And apparently the bastard had a crush on her too, as evidenced by the talks he had overheard the blonde having with the other members of the Avengers. Even Romanoff and Barton were rooting for him. But…they didn't know Grant harbored feelings for his rookie.  _"Peggy's married already, Steve". "You deserve to be happy, Steve". "Go for_ _it,_ _Steve"._  Then, just tonight, she had fucking kissed Rogers. A full on kiss to the lips! And the man had kissed her back! Right in the middle of the god damn living room! And guess where everyone else was while he sulked over his very complicated feelings in his room? They were celebrating! Over a freaking kiss! Then again, it was Stark's idea, and the billionaire was all about going overboard.

In all honesty, he had no idea how he felt. He wasn't happy, that much he could tell. He was frustrated at himself for not at least trying to make a move sooner. He was upset that she liked someone that wasn't him, because he thought they really had something special. He was pissed off at Rogers for being well…himself. And he was kind of saddened by the fact that nobody bothered to check on him. He felt useless and unwanted, he realized. It was something that he'd felt every day during his childhood, unable to help his younger brother and beaten by his family. When Clint pulled his ass out of juvie, he had finally felt part of something great. Now, in a mere almost two weeks' time, the feeling of inclusiveness had practically evaporated. He didn't know what to do.

But, he knew he couldn't stay here.

He knew he had to leave to clear his thoughts, to make sure he didn't get in the way of anybody. Nobody wanted him around anyway; he was obviously just a dead weight. A weapon to be utilized during war and discarded during times of peace.

This was his chance.

He rolled off the bed, landing heavily on his feet. Reaching underneath his bed, he pulled out his black duffel bag and began the process of packing. First, he folded his clothes perfectly, not a wrinkle to be seen. It was something engrained in him, the need for everything to be neat. Plus, it was something so familiar to him that he found it comforting. He didn't have much in the ways of personal possessions, just a few pictures of the team and of him with Natasha and Clint. Briefly, he considered leaving them there, but decided against it. Better to take them than possibly regret leaving them later.

He grabbed his phone, and pried off the back. Removing the SIM card, he crushed it it in his hand. The destroyed bits and pieces fell to the ground around him. Next, he reached underneath his pillow to grab his SIG Sauer and ammo magazines. He checked the clip in the pistol before tugging it into the waistband of his black jeans. Placing the magazines in his bag, he finished packing and zipped the duffel closed, before he pulled on a black hoodie and black gloves.

Taking one last look at his now pretty much empty room, he closed the door behind him and walked at a brisk pace to the elevators. He passed the common area, where he could hear everyone else. He glanced in quickly. Natasha and Clint were in the middle of a drinking challenge at the bar. Jemma, Fitz, and Bruce were playing Scramble at the kitchen table. May sat on the balcony reading a book. Tony was talking to Dum-E. Coulson, Rogers, and Skye were talking in a corner of the room, a smile evident on each of their faces.

_They don't even notice I'm not there._

He nodded to himself, the sinking feeling in his stomach refusing to leave, and continued on his way down the hall. He passed by Clint's archery range and paused, entering quickly to take an Oneida Kestrel, quiver, and arrows. Archery was something that Grant loved to do, thanks in no small part to his supervising officer's own love for it, so he decided he might as well take the weapon. When he stepped into the elevator minutes later, with his head down and pressed the button for the ground floor, he jumped at the voice of Stark's A.I.

"Mr. Ward, why do you have a duffel bag?" questioned the British intelligence.

Thinking quickly, he lied, "I'm going out to return some things, Jarvis. I didn't have any regular bags so I just grabbed this."

"I see. Be careful, it is not wise to be out so late. Would you like me to notify Master Stark of your departure?"

"No," said Grant swiftly. "Let them enjoy their party. I'll only be out for a few hours, so let them relax."

"As you wish."

There was no point in telling the artificial intelligence the true nature of his exit and asking it to keep a secret. Because if Tony asked, the machine's loyalty was to him, not to Grant. He was trying to figure out ways to hide his departure for longer when someone behind him cleared their throat. He whirled around, his hand flying to his gun, before he saw who it was.

Pepper Potts.

The woman gave him a sad smile, before she stepped out of the elevator ahead of him, pausing to place a kiss on his cheek, like an aunt saying goodbye.

_Pepper always knows._

The second he stepped out of the tower, the cool night's air whipped across his face, ruffling his hair. He sighed deeply, pulling his hood up. He walked down the street, carefully observing his surroundings for any disturbances. When he reached a grocery store parking lot, he climbed into an old SUV and began to hotwire it. He had to make a lot of headway to ensure the team wouldn't find him as he navigated towards his destination. He mentally calculated the time, deciding that the team would first get suspicious around ten in the morning, if they even bothered to look for him. If he was right, Skye would be the one to knock on his bunk, probably to ask if she could train with Rogers. When he didn't answer, she'd probably shrug it off until dinner time, when everyone was supposed to be present.

Shaking the conjured images from his head, he began the trek to Starling City.

It was time to go home.


	2. Welcome to Starling City

_Welcome to Starling City_ , read the sign as Grant passed by it.

His plan was fairly straightforward. He had enough money to get by for a decent amount of time, but he'd eventually need a job. He'd heard a small burger joint named Big Belly Burger was hiring, so he was going to look into that when the need arised. Since S.H.I.E.L.D. knew all of his aliases, he had to reinvent himself on the way to the city. He was no longer Grant Ward in every sense of the name.

His hair was a dark blonde and he'd taken to wearing black aviators, as well as a black hoodie and black gloves. He knew he might look slightly suspicious to some, but there was no way in hell he was parting with his affinity for all things black and leather.

His new name was Tony Masters, a man with several high degrees in varying subjects, as well as an ex-military background. Originally from Arizona, he had moved to Starling City to pursue a career in business.

Grant wasn't sure how that was going to work out, especially because his only idea for a job so far was a damn burger joint.

 _One step at a time_ , he told himself.  _Just find a place to stay right now._

One thing was for sure, he was not going to abandon the values he'd learned from S.H.I.E.L.D.  _Protect the innocent_ , whispered the voice in his head. So, that's what he was going to do. He just had no idea how yet.

He parked outside a relatively nice hotel building called Windhaven. It wasn't huge, but it had a few suite balconies on the highest floor that levelled off with the roofs of other buildings in the area. It was perfect for him.

He entered the lounge, heading straight to the desk. "Can I get a suite on the highest floor please?"

The woman behind the desk, a pretty, although rather thin, strawberry blonde, smiled sweetly at him. "It's not very cheap."

Ward smiled inwardly. If it was money she wanted, money he could give. He pulled out a decent sized wad of cash from his pocket, not enough to put a dent in his funds though. Slipping it across the counter, he said, "This should cover me for about a month, yeah?"

"Well then, hotshot," she giggled, handing him a room key. "Room 6C for Mister…?"

"Masters," replied Ward, "Tony Masters."

"Well, Mister Masters, enjoy your stay. My name's Hayley. Let me know if you need anything."

"Thank you, Hayley."

He gave her a small wave as a goodbye and ascended the stairs, clutching his duffel bag tightly. Reaching the sixth floor, he walked through the hallway, listening for the sounds of his neighbors. He heard the soft noise of off-key singing in one room and what sounded like the low volume of a movie in another. Good, the people on this floor liked to remain quiet.

Opening the door to his suite, he examined the room. A small kitchen in the right corner that he could work with, cabinets already stocked with delicacies and a few basics. A dark wood dining table with plush white chairs was off to the side of a soft, comfortable couch. The couch was flanked immediately on the right and left by two black leather reclining chairs. A coffee table was in the middle of the three pieces of furniture, in front of an already crackling fireplace. On top of the fireplace was a fifty-five inch screen television built into the wall.

Entering his bedroom, he found a king-sized bed with white duvet sheets and several pillows leaning against the headboard. Next to it was a small nightstand with a lamp on it. In the corner opposite the doors opening to the balcony was an oak desk with a computer already running.

Setting his bag down on the bed, he opened the double glass doors leading to the balcony. A small smile crept its way onto his face at the sight of not only a complete set of patio furniture, but a good-sized hot tub as well. Oh, he was going to enjoy this.

When he re-entered his bedroom, he paused when his eyes caught sight of a newspaper on the desk.  _I must have missed this._ He walked over and picked it up, flicking through it.

The answer to how he was going to protect people was right in front of his face.

And it came in the form of his childhood friend, Dinah Laurel Lance.

_Laurel Lance, a lawyer from CNRI, a law firm located in the Glades, is currently pursuing criminal charges against businessman Adam Hunt._

For the first time in a week and a half, a wide grin crawled its way onto his face.  _Dinah Laurel Lance. Laurel Lance. Laurel._ Something akin to happiness seized his heart because, fuck, he hadn't seen her since before he left for military school all those years ago. He remembered everything about his best friend. Her curly brown hair that fell to the middle of her back. Her smile that stretched her face in such a way that some kids made fun of her, but her friends loved. Her brown eyes twinkling with joy and a bubbly personality. She'd wanted to be a lawyer since they hit ten years old, and she'd done it. He wished he had been there to congratulate her.

When he flipped on the television a few minutes later, he got another surprise.

An African American reporter stood in front of Saint Dumas hospital, speaking animatedly. He read the large white letters that appeared on the screen.  _Billionaire playboy Oliver Queen is alive_ , he said to himself. His eyes widened at the name of the friend who he thought was deceased. He turned up the volume, eager to hear more.

"Oliver Queen, son of Robert and Moira Queen, was found alive after five years surviving on an unknown island in the North China Sea. Currently, he is being treated for injuries as the city prepares to welcome him home."  _Oh my god, he's alive!_ He had heard about the tragic death of his only male friend from childhood. The Queen's Gambit had been caught in a storm and reportedly sunk, leaving no survivors.  _But if Oliver survived, does that mean Sara-_ "Mr. Queen states that he is the only known survivor of the incident."

His fists clenched by his side as he stared at the screen, smile faltering. Sara was Laurel's sister, and the first person he had ever had feelings for. The platinum blonde was a sight to behold, her wavy curls falling slightly past her shoulders. Grant remembered her smile being the brightest and best thing in the room. She had never been one for education, unlike her sister. He was better friends with Laurel than he was with Sara, but that was mainly because the blonde twin had always had a thing for Oliver.

_Well, now I have a few options._

He was definitely going to be checking in on his two friends, probably from afar because it would get risky if they knew he was there.

_But first, let's get down to business._

If he was going to fight a war against crime, he needed a uniform.

* * *

"Grant?" called Skye, knocking on the door to his bunk.

She frowned when she received no answer, tucking her hair behind her ear. When she had woken up that morning, she had stretched and ate breakfast like always before pulling on a white t-shirt and blue leggings. Steve had offered to train her that morning, but Skye had refused, wanting to talk to Grant. So, she had been eager to make her way to the gym on-time, only to find it empty. She had waited roughly thirty minutes before giving up and going to his bunk, where she now stood. Something was wrong. She could feel it. Grant was never a second late, let alone a half hour. "Grant, you in there? You missed the party last night and I wanted to talk to you."

She sighed in defeat when she got no response. He was either in a very deep sleep, which seemed unlikely since he was always alert, ignoring her, or out at the moment.

Pepper walked by her, dressed in a gray suit, and clutching a computer to her chest. The older woman looked exhausted, a crestfallen look on her usually happy face.

"Hey, Pepps," she greeted, flashing a smile. Pepper gave her a small, seemingly forced smile that had Skye close to frowning.  _What's wrong with her?_  "Have you seen Grant?"

"Grant? Uh…no. I haven't," replied Pepper before turning around.

Skye's frown deepened.  _Wow, definitely upset about something._  "You okay?"

"Fine," said the older woman sharply. "I need to go."

_Okay, something's definitely wrong here._

* * *

She didn't find out exactly what was wrong until dinnertime that night. Everyone was in the lounge waiting for Grant. They ate dinner together four times a week and everyone was supposed to attend. There were no exceptions, unless somebody was injured. May was reclining in a chair, reading a book called  _Unwind_  or something like that. She didn't understand the older woman's interest in it. The book was about three kids who were scheduled to be unwound – which apparently meant having their body parts harvested for later use – but escaped. _Disturbing, if you ask me._  Coulson had a worried look on his face, eyebrows creased. Jemma, Fitz, and Bruce were talking science mumbo-jumbo. Steve sat next to her on the couch, a small smile on his face. Clint and Natasha were telling each other sexual jokes while the archer twirled a drumstick between his fingers. Pepper sat silently in the corner, her gaze locked on the floor, which Skye still found odd.

And then there was Tony, impatient as ever. "Where is he?" huffed the billionaire. "He's been keeping us waiting forever."

Finally, Clint turned his attention away from Natasha. "I'll go see if he's in his room."

Natasha stood up to follow him.

Contemplating for a split-second, she stood up as well. "I'll come with you," she told the two assassins.

They nodded.

Skye didn't miss Pepper's slightly panicked look.

* * *

"Grant Douglas Ward, open this door right now!" demanded Clint, banging his fist against the locked door.

When they got no answer again, worry began to creep its way through Skye's thoughts. He should have been back already. Where the hell was her supervising officer? JARVIS had informed them that Grant wasn't in any of his usual places around the tower, so they had figured he would be in his room.

That didn't look like the case.

"JARVIS," said Natasha, "override the lock."

The artificial intelligence took a moment before responding, "I'm sorry, Ms. Romanoff, I cannot do that."

"Why not?" asked the redhead, her calm tone slipping into one of incredulity.

"I have not been authorized to perform such an action."

"Who gave you the order?" questioned Clint.

"Mrs. Potts," answered the British A.I.

"JARVIS, open the door," commanded Tony, who entered the hallway and walked toward the room.

"But, sir, Mrs. Potts-"

"Her orders do not supersede my own," cut off the billionaire. "Now unlock the damn door."

"As you wish," responded JARVIS.

A click was heard as the code for the door was entered. Clint pulled the door open and they were met with a surprising sight.

The room was empty.

The remnants of what Skye identified as a SIM card were scattered across the floor.

All of Grant's personal possessions were gone except for one.

His level seven Specialist badge rested atop the nightstand.


End file.
